


White Frost

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Multi, Snow White AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in a land far away... No, this isn't any old fairytale. There is discord within the Kingdoms of Maria and Rose, and the rebels will do anything that is possible to overthrow the Kings. Crown Prince Rivaille will be plagued with difficulties along the way... But will he be strong enough to overcome the odds? This isn't a fairytale. Happily-ever-afters don't always exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Year 845

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without Farah (@chizuuuu on twitter), for she was the one who gave me the prompt for this AU. This AU begins in the year 845, and will last for a couple of years through the chapters. As more characters are introduced I will briefly explain them and their roles.
> 
> The characters in the prologue will not be named but you can probably assume their identities once the story really begins.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this ^^ ~

Once upon a time, in the year 845, there was a peaceful land, divided into two kingdoms: Kingdom Maria and Kingdom Rose. You could say that there was harmony between the two. There was no need for anything like a war, for the kings were good friends. Disputes could easily be settled with negotiations. People were happy with the arrangements, for it meant that they would not be faced with terrible ordeals that could result from a war or discord.

However, there were whispers of a rebellion, stemming from Kingdom Maria. These people were not pleased with the way things worked. They wanted a totalitarian regime, and they were not afraid to fight for it. The kings were too soft with their rule. Progress, if any, was slow. This peaceful way of life came at a price, and it meant that there would be no foreseeable growth.

But first, the rebellion group had to play their cards right. They had to plant their foundations deep.

 

* * *

 

“I assume our plan is underway?”

She merely smiled briefly, her back to the owner of the voice. “Yes. I have infiltrated their ranks. It wasn’t easy, but the king has been too – how should I put it – careless? Especially with the passing of the late Queen.”

The man in the dark hood chuckled. “One cannot fault a man deep in love. Or at least, under the pretence that he is.”

Indeed, she thought. King Erwin, the king and ruler of the Kingdom of Rose, heartbroken after the passing of the late Queen, had been rather hasty in making decisions. All the better for their cause. It would only make things easier.

Kingdom Maria… Kingdom Rose…

What a complete joke.

“I understand that he has already begun to trust you?”

She chuckled. “More than we could have predicted. He’s surprisingly easy to convince… We don’t even have to try hard.”

The woman spun around, her glasses glinting, giving off a sly, mischievous aura. She pushed it back up the bridge of her nose, laughing, and such evil in the laughter. “It won’t be long before the kingdoms fall.”

“And it will be our turn to rule.”


	2. The Winter of 845

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rivaille had planned on going hunting alone, but an unexpected turn of events gains him a potential... brother?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is the winter of Year 845. Rivaille is 13 in this chapter, whereas Eren and Armin are both 10. Mikasa (although mentioned vaguely) is a year older than Eren is. King Erwin is the father of Rivaille, and also ruler of Kingdom Rose. Armin's grandfather is the royal physician.
> 
> Fun fact: Rivaille is taller than Eren in this chapter (for once)! uwu

Not unlike any other day, the forest was quiet in this early morning. Not eerily so. Rather, it was the progression of night to day. The nocturnal animals were finally getting their rest, and the day-dwellers were just peeking their heads out to greet the new day.

It was the type of quiet that huntsman like him grew to enjoy. It was the calm before the storm. The quiet before the hunt truly went underway.

Knowing his prey… He was honestly looking forward to the hunt. It would be a challenge… but yet he knew that he’d no doubt succeed. 

He watched from a careful distance, crouching low in his vantage point from behind the thick foliage. From there he could keep track of his prey, waiting for the right moment, when his prey’s guard was down, to let the notched arrow loose. 

A somewhat feral smirk crossed his features as he observed how his target was moved. Somewhat cautious, as if his prey could sense his presence.

 _Of course not_ , he chuckled to himself. The hunted often had a keen sense, but he wouldn’t expect it to be _that_ attuned to the surroundings. At least, not _this_ kind.

Ah. There!

His prey slowed down to observe his surroundings, and the huntsman jumped at the chance. Raising the bow to his eye level, he laughed under his breath, marvelling at how easy this hunt would be. His fingers gripped the string firmly, before letting the arrow loose.

“ _Despedida_.”

 

* * *

 

The cold wind cut at his face like a sharp blade against his skin. Rivaille’s gloved fingers were curled loosely around his bow – certainly ready to spin into action if it called for it. He kept his breathing quiet, carefully threading through the forest, careful not to startle any potential prey.

It was quiet. 

Rivaille slowed his pace down, his ears straining to catch the sound of crunching leaves or snapping twigs – any sound that would suggest to him that an animal would be nearby.

Maybe _too_ quiet.

He let out a shaky breath, pulling his scarf tighter around him, the hair on his arms standing up. This didn’t seem normal. Not in the least bit –

And then he heard _it_.

“Duck!”

Rivaille felt a small figure collide into him in a tackle. He could feel himself falling sideways, his bow dropped, his hands reflexively spread ahead of him to break his fall. What alarmed him more was the whisk of an arrow slicing through the air, through the space where his head had been just a few seconds before.

The wind was knocked out of him, and before Rivaille could even gather his wits, the person who had tackled him had managed to get himself upright. In a swift motion, the figure had procured a dagger, with which he had hurled in the direction of where the arrow had come from.

With a rather precise and sharp hurl, Rivaille had noted briefly, before grabbing his bow and notching an arrow. He barely had time to question the person who had tackled him, a small-ish boy with a messy brown mop of a hair – he’d had to give him a piece of his mind later, once the danger was over.

A burly man crashed out of the bushes, holding the dagger that the younger boy had thrown by the blade, his hand dripping with a crimson liquid. He snarled, almost like a feral animal. And there wasn’t time to register the swift motion of the man. In a snap, he had the dagger by the handle, and the next, Rivaille was being tackled, _again_ , aside. 

The blade didn’t find its home in _his_ chest, thank god, but from the faint gasp he could hear, it certainly must’ve lodged itself in the arm young boy.

The young boy’s movements were only partially hindered, and not before long he had the dagger out of his arm, charging towards their assailant.

Or rather, _Rivaille’s_ assailant. It finally dawned upon him that it was _him_ that the man was trying to attack, and this stranger whom he didn’t know was rushing to his rescue. If it was one thing that Rivaille did not like, it was to owe a stranger one.

Certainly, he couldn’t allow this young boy to outdo him.

With dexterity that you wouldn’t have imagined of a thirteen year old, he swiftly made his way to the attacker. While he was distracted with the frontal assault that the young stranger was dealing him, Rivaille jumped unto the man’s back and struck a spare arrow into his back. In response, his attacker roared in pain, shaking him off and kicking the stranger in the stomach. Rivaille tumbled onto the cold snow, before grabbing the young boy by the arm and running in the direction of the castle. There was no way the two of them would be able to deal with a man of that size. And even so, there was no way Rivaille was going to deal the killing blow. He didn’t want that sort of baggage on him. Not at this age.

Taking the opportunity as the burly man stumbled around, trying to pull out the arrow, they ran as fast as their legs could carry them, not questioning the other. Rivaille swiftly notched another arrow, spinning around quickly, sending it in the direction of the assailant. He heard another roar, and allowed himself a small satisfied smirk. That’ll teach him not to mess with an expert marksman. Even if he _was_ just thirteen.

Only when Rivaille was completely sure that they had lost the man did he slow down to a brisk walk. He glanced at the young boy, a head shorter than he was. 

“Why would you…?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. The stranger fidgeted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with him. When he spoke, his voice was a sweet alto of a boy who had yet to reach puberty.

“I just… happened to spot the man hiding suspiciously behind the bushes. Instinctively I knew he was up to no good… And I couldn’t let an innocent kid not different from myself get hurt…” the stranger mumbled, rubbing his arms awkwardly.

“I see,” Rivaille nodded curtly, his mind racing. Just what was the goal of the attacker? Did he plan on injuring him, or was his plan… to kill him? He couldn’t imagine how he, just a thirteen year old, could have offended anyone to such a point. Surely the man must’ve known of his status… Still, it was shocking that anyone would dare to strike so openly against the king.

“I’ll bring you to the King,” he said, still walking towards the castle. Rivaille could hear the boy stop in his steps, could even hear the tremble in his voice.

“T-The king?!” he squeaked. “But I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Rivaille had to suppress an eye roll. “Of course not, you twat. My father is the king. I’ll get you patched up at the palace,” he nodded towards the wound in the boy’s arm, still moist with blood. “I’m sure my father would like to… extend his gratitude for… saving my life.”

He didn’t like to admit it, but he certainly did owe this boy one.

“Speaking of which, what is your name?” he posed the question, silently urging the boy to start moving again with a glance.

“My n-name?” The squeaky quality of his voice had yet to recede. “E-Eren. Eren Jaeger.”

The prince nodded once again, quietly musing. “Alright then, Eren Jaeger. We don’t have all day.”

 

* * *

 

Armin Arlert was lucky to have been the grandson of the most renowned physician of Kingdom Rose. In this world, this life, it was of great fortune to be able to work for the king and his family. He wasn’t necessarily working for them, not yet at least, but he had learned a great deal just by assisting his grandfather, and the king had generously extended his library for Armin to access. The vast knowledge in the palace was amazing, and he wasn’t even a quarter of the way through the books.

He eyed the wound of the boy named Eren Jaeger thoughtfully. It was a rather deep wound, but thank goodness it was cold. An infection wasn’t likely to set in in this weather, so that was a plus. 

“This might burn a little,” he murmured as he dabbed at the wound with a cloth dipped in alcohol. Eren jumped, but he did not scream, which surprised Armin. For someone his age, he certainly wasn’t lacking in the bravery department. Especially having saved Crown Prince Rivaille from an assailant… 

Once he had disinfected the stab wound, Armin stepped back and watched as his grandfather started treating the injury.

 

* * *

 

King Erwin had been the most shocked when he learned of the attack. Outraged, he had sent his men to search for the attacker. Even if the man had escaped, there was bound to be something left behind. They could deduce from any findings.

Meanwhile, he watched as his royal physician tended to the injury the Jaeger child had sustained while trying to protect his own son. Rivaille had tried to excuse himself from the room, but Erwin hadn’t allowed it. How could he simply leave the boy who had saved him? Where were his manners?

Erwin had learned enough from the Jaeger’s boy point of view, and from Rivaille’s own report. Certainly, he was indebted to the young boy, and regardless of whatever he could offer him as compensation, he was politely refused. For an orphan living alone with his elder step-sister, he certainly was a smart one.

Perhaps…

“Eren?” he called out, and the boy’s eyes flitted to him, alert. 

“Yes, your majesty?”

“What do you say to my proposal of adopting you and your step-sister?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been way too long since I last updated. Heck, it's been far too long since I last wrote any fanfiction at all. ; w ; I apologise for the wait, and as well as how badly it was written. This chapter has not been beta-ed, so there could be mistakes anywhere (which I'll probably eventually find out... or when someone points it out to me). I'd love constructive comments! Hope you enjoy this chapter! c:


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